


Works For Me

by fuzipenguin



Series: Love is Still Love [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Asexual Character, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, M/M, Other, Pansexual Character, Sappy, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5581786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker has left it for too long</p>
            </blockquote>





	Works For Me

                Sunstreaker wakes up with an itch between his legs and his brother lazily thrusting his spike against Sunstreaker’s aft.

                He stares at the door to their quarters for several seconds before reaching behind him to swat Sideswipe’s hip. “Stop that.”

                Sideswipe whines a protest and buries his faceplates against Sunstreaker’s neck. The humping slows and nearly stops, but as Sideswipe falls back into recharge, the thrusting resumes, likely spurred on by whatever dream he’s having.

                Gritting his denta, Sunstreaker scoots out from under Sideswipe’s outflung arm, turns over, and shoves his twins so forcefully that he slides across the berth and bumps up against the wall. Fortunately, this is enough to bring him to the Land of the Conscious. Or at least to Somewhat Aware Island. 

                “Mph! Wha…? What’s going on?” Sideswipe mumbles. He squints one optic and rubs at the other while his lips turn downward in a pout. While adorable, it’s not cute enough to negate the stickiness smeared across Sunstreaker’s rear end.

                “You were humping me,” Sunstreaker responds flatly. “Take care of it. Somewhere else.”

                Sideswipe works his lower jaw for a second before glancing down the length of his body. He seems almost surprised to see his spike out and fully pressurized, the head glistening in the dim light of their optics.

                “Oh. Hey. Sorry ‘bout that. You ok?” Sideswipe asks, carefully rolling to his knees and leaving the berth via the open end by their pedes. He stands, stretching his arms high above his head. His spike bobs in the air, drawing Sunstreaker’s gaze to it. For the thousandth time, he wishes he felt something when looking at his twin’s interfacing equipment. Well… something good… something other than a minor exasperation.

                “I’m fine,” Sunstreaker replies, doing his best to ignore the heat under his own modesty panel.

                Sideswipe takes a step towards the door leading to their living quarters and then pauses. He looks over his shoulder at Sunstreaker, biting at his lower lip.

                “You sure? I haven’t jacked in in a while…”

                Sunstreaker waves him away, rolling back over and trying to get comfortable. “No. Leave.”

                “Yes, master,” Sideswipe replies mockingly. “I’ll take care of business in the washracks and then be on the couch if you need me. This off shift is in dire need of some gaming hours.”

                Sunstreaker grunts wordlessly and feels his twin leave. Sideswipe won’t take long. He’s always been content with the most minimal of frame care and considering how hard his spike looked, Sunstreaker doubted ‘taking care of business’ would add more than a minute to Sideswipe’s shower length.

                Doing his best to think about something else other than his own body, Sunstreaker shutters his optics and slows down his ventilations. He mentally walks through the process of stripping and cleaning his blaster rifle several times, each repetition more slowly than the last.

                Five minutes passes, then ten, and the heat between his legs steadily increases. There’s the noise of a door opening and closing out in the other room and then Sunstreaker hears Sideswipe’s game console flicking to life. There’s muffled screaming and Sunstreaker snorts quietly to himself as he listens to the familiar sounds of one of Sideswipe’s favorite games.

                A half hour goes by, the charge rising exponentially until Sunstreaker huffs out an irritated ex-vent and initiates the transformation sequence to move his interface panel aside. He should have let Sideswipe jack in long before now. He should have let him do it several weeks ago, if Sunstreaker were to be honest with himself. He just hates having to rely on his twin for something like this.

                But now a transfer of charge would do nothing; he’s built up too much. He’s practically buzzing with it and only an overload will disperse it all properly.

                Resigned, he rolls to his back and thrusts his hand between his legs, grasping his half-hard spike and stroking it from base to tip. Just a few touches pressurizes the length completely, and Sunstreaker stares at the ceiling as he dispassionately works himself over.

                There is pleasure in it, he can’t deny that. The warmth and friction of his own hand against his equipment heats his frame nicely, little zips of electricity sparking in the tips of his pedes. It’s nice. But so is a hot oil soak or a massage to overworked cables. And those indulgences don’t leave him so _sticky_.

                He knows he’s not right; knows he’s supposed to chase after this like every other mech he’s encountered, no matter how much they say they don’t. But Sunstreaker hates it. Hates that his frame actually demands this, that their bodies create electric charge just from existing, from every motion, even ventilating. Most times, it’s a small enough amount for Sideswipe to bleed off if they plug into one another.

                Fortunately, Sideswipe doesn’t mind. He enjoys his own charge, and eagerly accepts Sunstreaker’s. Sideswipe keeps saying that he doesn’t care that that is all they do, yet Sunstreaker can never stop feeling guilty that he can’t reciprocate Sideswipe’s desire for him.

                Pushing those thoughts aside, Sunstreaker concentrates on moving his hand, circling the head of his spike on every upstroke and thrusting his hips into his grip. He’s a little surprised he hasn’t overloaded already. Usually his body leaps onto the chance to dispel its built up charge, but it’s like he just can’t push himself over the edge this time.

                He tries lying on his side, but it feels too awkward, so he rolls to his belly instead. That’s a little better; the soft bunching of the berth covers around his spike provides a nice surface to thrust against. But it’s still not enough, and he rolls to his back with a frustrated whine after another few minutes.

                His arm is getting tired, and his wrist is developing a kink in one of the cables so he switches out to his right hand but he’s always favors his left and it’s just not enough and why won’t he overload?!

                Growling softly, he sits up and stares down at his groin while clenching his fingers into useless fists. “I hate you,” he hisses between clenched denta, feeling himself tremble in unsatisfied need. He briefly thinks about stimulating his valve, but doing so has always made him feel unsettled. Maybe just his node…

                No.

                None of it is right.

                Letting his head fall back, he reaches for his twin through their bond and taps up against the block Sideswipe had raised. Sideswipe immediately lowers it, replying with a wordless query.

                _Get in here_.

                Sideswipe’s amusement trickles into Sunstreaker’s head, and he hears the game system turn off, followed by sure footed steps walking towards their sleeping room. The door slides aside and Sideswipe pokes his head in, optics sparkling in amusement.

                “Yes, Master? You called?” he asks. Then he blinks down at Sunstreaker’s exposed lap. “Oh. Wait too long?”

                “What does it look like?” Sunstreaker snaps waspishly. 

                Sideswipe moves the rest of the way into the room, shutting the door behind him. It’s a stupid thing, but Sunstreaker appreciates the extra measure of privacy from the outside world. It’s bad enough he has to share this with his twin.

                “I don’t know. Maybe I inspired you earlier?” Sideswipe suggests, walking over to the berth.

                “You know it doesn’t work that way,” Sunstreaker grumbles, staring at his pedes.

                Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Sideswipe shrugs. “Maybe one day. What do you want me to do? Same as before?”

                Sunstreaker lifts his head. A frustrated grunt emerges from the back of his throat, and he gestures at his spike with what he knows to be a disgruntled expression as he looks at his brother.

                Sideswipe considers him for several moments before gesturing with his chin. “Move over. Face the wall on your side.”

                Desperate now, Sunstreaker does as Sideswipe instructs, leaving enough room for his brother to climb up onto the berth behind him. Sideswipe snuggles close, draping an arm over Sunstreak’s mid-section and propping himself up on one elbow in order to notch his chin over Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sideswipe is comfortingly warm and smells like the cleanser Sunstreaker had special ordered a week ago. The familiar press of their plating makes Sunstreaker’s tense shoulder relax. 

                “Spike only?” Sideswipe murmurs, his hand flattening against Sunstreaker’s lower belly.

                “Mmm,” Sunstreaker replies, letting the shutters over his optic close. He hesitantly replaces his hand onto his spike and lightly strokes it.

                “Ok. I’m here,” Sideswipe says, gently tightening his arm. His lips nudge up against Sunstreaker’s neck, pressing a chaste kiss there. “I got you.”

                Sunstreaker makes a noncommittal noise and sags back against his twin’s chest. This is better.

                But, as he finds out, it’s still not enough. His rhythm quickens, his hand tightens around his length, but overload still eludes him. After several torturous minutes, he lets out a frustrated moan, overload hovering teasingly close.

                “I’m going to fragging rip it off,” Sunstreaker growls lowly. Sideswipe grasps Sunstreaker’s forearm and stills the motion of his hand.

                “No, you’re not,” Sideswipe chides, snorting out a laugh. “It’s too fine a specimen to do that.”

                Sunstreaker feels irrationally irritated as his brother’s amusement. Lust and overloads come naturally to Sideswipe, and he just doesn’t _get_ how much Sunstreaker loathes this.

                “Do you… do you want me to do it?” Sideswipe hesitantly offers, bringing Sunstreaker out of his despair a little. Sideswipe releases Sunstreaker’s arm and retreats a little, giving him time to decide.

                And he considers it, he really does. They had done it twice before, and each time Sunstreaker had hit climax quickly. Sideswipe knew what he was doing, but Sunstreaker had hated the out of control feeling Sideswipe’s hands had left him with.

                So he finally shakes his head. “No.”

                “All right. That’s ok,” Sideswipe replies, soothingly stroking Sunstreaker’s elbow. “How about we try something different? Turn around and face me.”

                Sunstreaker makes a questioning noise. While it wasn’t often that Sideswipe assisted like this, the times he had were always from behind, encompassing Sunstreaker in a supportive cuddle. His presence was less… demanding… and more reassuring that way.

                “It’s ok, just turn around,” Sideswipe repeats, tugging on Sunstreaker’s hip. Reluctantly, he does as his brother asks.

                “Right, now… just… ‘k, put that leg… no… here…”

                After an awkward few moments, Sideswipe manages to arrange them both to his liking. They remain on their sides, Sideswipe’s nasal ridge now level with Sunstreaker’s collar fairing. Sideswipe has a leg flung over Sunstreaker’s upper thigh and their lower bodies are snugged close together, Sunstreaker’s spike nestled against Sideswipe’s belly.

                “Sides…” Sunstreaker begins, uncertain. This position feels a little suggestive… is Sideswipe trying for something else than merely getting Sunstreaker off?

                “Hey.” Sideswipe slides a palm under the cheek Sunstreaker had resting against the bed. Because of his helm fins, it was either that or turn his neck so that the back of his head laid flat.

                “We’ll just try it. If you’re not comfortable, you can stop,” Sideswipe says reassuringly, tilting his head to look up at him. He is smiling, his gaze filled with frank adoration. Every so often Sunstreaker catches his brother looking at him with this very same expression. It always makes something low in Sunstreaker’s abdomen tighten and this time is no different. He squirms with the sensation and his hips twitch, pushing his spike in a slow slide against Sideswipe’s plating.

                And that feels good. Real good, actually. Sunstreaker tries to reach down between their bodies to touch his equipment again, but Sideswipe gently pushes his hand aside.

                “Like this,” Sideswipe whispers, shifting a few inches closer. He slowly reaches out and places a hand on Sunstreaker’s lower back, just above the slight swell of his aft. Sideswipe carefully presses Sunstreaker’s lower body forward, the motion causing his spike to move against Sideswipe once more, a bloom of heat curling up deep within Sunstreaker’s belly in response.

                Sunstreaker stares down between their frames, a little shocked. Making a thoughtful noise, Sideswipe adjusts again, scooting even closer and tilting backwards a fraction so that Sunstreaker’s spike is better cradled in the dip of Sideswipe’s pelvic span.

                “Just like that, Sunny,” Sideswipe instructs, nudging Sunstreaker’s hip back into motion. As the sensitive head of his spike drags across Sideswipe’s smooth armor, Sunstreaker’s optic shutters half close at the blissful sensation.

                “Are you…” Sunstreaker trails off, letting his body be nudged and pulled into finding a rhythm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to pick it up and soon Sunstreaker is moving against his twin’s frame, rutting against him urgently.

                Sunstreaker had thought being wrapped up in his brother’s embrace was intimate, but this surpasses that by leaps and bounds. Sideswipe continues to look up at him, expression languid and tender. His body is canted to welcome Sunstreaker’s, hand quiescent along his waist.

                “I’m good,” Sideswipe replies confidently.

                “I don’t want to…” Sunstreaker trails off, feeling absurdly distressed. “I’m _using_ you.” 

                Somehow this is so much more different than Sideswipe taking time out of his day to hold Sunstreaker through an overload or drain off his excess charge. This feels so much bigger, like he’s imposing so much more.

                But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he holds Sideswipe’s hip tighter and moves more frantically.

                Sideswipe tightens his grip on Sunstreaker’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek strut. “Spark of my spark,” Sideswipe murmurs, his hand coming up to press against Sunstreaker’s chestplate. “You’re not. I just wanna help. I’ll hold you, or touch you, or let you rub off against me; I don’t mind, Sunny. I promise,” he says, leaning up to brush a kiss against Sunstreaker’s chin, then straining to reach his nasal ridge to kiss it too. “I’m here. Take whatever you need.”

                Maybe Sideswipe doesn’t quite get it. But that’s alright, Sunstreaker realizes. Because Sideswipe is willing to find a way to make it work, to support Sunstreaker however he will allow.

                Climax surges through him suddenly, transfluid spattering both their bodies. He shudders with release and before he’s even finished spurting, he crushes Sideswipe to him, uncaring of the slick mess between them.

                Sideswipe frees his arm and wraps it around Sunstreaker’s shoulders, gripping him back just as tightly. His twin murmurs to him, but Sunstreaker can barely hear it over the roaring in his audials and the sounds of his own muffled moaning.

                His body finally spends itself and he slumps in place, letting his twin support him. Sideswipe takes it in stride and merely adjusts his grip, humming contentedly.

                “I love you,” he whispers reverently. “… that was really hot,” he adds.

                Sunstreaker can feel the smirk against his throat.

                “You really didn’t mind?” Sunstreaker questions, voice barely above a murmur.

                “Nope. I love being close to you, no matter what’s going on down below,” Sideswipe returns, squeezing him once before drawing back. Sunstreaker reluctantly loosens his grip, shyly gazing into his brother’s face. All he sees reflected back is honesty.

                Sunstreaker abruptly feels horrible. He often doubts Sideswipe’s sincerity in his support of Sunstreaker’s aversion to interfacing, but over the last few centuries, Sideswipe has never really given Sunstreaker any reason to. Sideswipe leaves when asked, stays when asked, offers suggestions yet never pushes. He’s never once ridiculed Sunstreaker or talked badly about him to others.

                Sideswipe suddenly reaches up and boops Sunstreaker on the nasal ridge. “You’re thinking too hard, Sunny. I know we’re never gonna be like other mechs’, and I’m ok with that. I just want to make you happy the best I can. Because that makes _me_ happy.”

                “You do,” Sunstreaker replies, voice crackling around the edges with emotion. He wants to say more, but words fail him, so he scrunches down and hides his face against Sideswipe’s chest. The small chuckle which echoes within lightly tickles Sunstreaker’s audial.

                They lay like that for another minute, Sideswipe stroking the back of Sunstreaker’s helm, before Sideswipe speaks up.

                “Hey, uh, Sunny?”

                “Yeah?” Sunstreaker murmurs, the post overload lassitude lulling him back down into recharge. He doesn’t fight it; it’s their day off, damnit, so he can go back to sleep if he wants. Even the drying mess on his thighs isn’t enough of a reason to keep him awake.

                “Well… not only did you make me happy… you made me _really_ happy,” Sideswipe replies hesitantly, shifting in place. Something  blunt nudges at Sunstreaker’s hip. He onlines his optics and stares down, spotting his brother’s pressurized spike jutting out from his pelvis.

                He considers the hard length for a moment before flicking his gaze upwards. His glossa peeks out and wets his lower lip. He had taken a chance with Sideswipe’s earlier suggestion and it had worked out really well. Maybe…

                “Show me? It won’t… rev me up or anything, but would you like that? If… I watched?” Sunstreaker offers.

                Sideswipe’s optics instantly brighten, and his next in-vent is shaky. “Frag, yeah. I’ll even narrate for you; maybe you can pick up some pointers.” He twists on the berth in excitement, fighting to push himself into a sitting position.

                Sunstreaker watches his brother flail about and smiles. Maybe their interfacing wasn’t like other mechs’, but it worked for them.

 

~ End

**Author's Note:**

> In this 'verse, I headcanon that twins are generally involved with one another both romantically and sexually. But Sunstreaker feels no physical attraction for anyone, not even Sideswipe. Whereas Sideswipe has the hots for his twin, but is also attracted to whoever strikes his fancy. Sunstreaker is accepting of Sideswipe's sexual forays outside the two of them, especially since it takes the pressure off Sunstreaker. As long as it is Sunstreaker who Sideswipe always returns to and of course Sideswipe does. 
> 
> I also headcanon that all Cybertronian frames generate charge; kinda like how all electronics general static electricity and draw dust out of the air to them? This charge will build and build until mecha dispels the charge through an overload. Sides and Sunny have also worked out a way for Sideswipe to draw that excess charge off Sunstreaker through a plug and play type connection (which of course, ramps up Sideswipe's own charge and is one of the reasons Sideswipe is always up for a good roll in the berth). But sometimes the charge builds up too much for a transfer to be effective and Sunstreaker has to resort to a manual overload. Which Sunstreaker hates. As he says in the fic, it feels good, but so do a lot of other things that don't leave him all dirty. 
> 
> And thus, this fic was born.


End file.
